


three funerals and a wedding

by Rainsong



Series: Found Family Part II, or, The Mighty Nein [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (only a canonial one), Bisexual Fjord, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Deus Ex Machina, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Fluff, Gay Caduceus, Gray-Ace Caduceus, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Caduceus Clay, POV Fjord (Critical Role), POV Third Person Limited, Past Tense, Shotgun Wedding, Teahaw, Weddings, Xhorhouse (Critical Role), but would you expect any less from the wildmom, divine intervention, her boys are getting MARRIED, i've never seen four weddings and a funeral i just thought it would be a clever title, inappropriate longing, mostly?, that's not how ceremony works but we're going for it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:52:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25670113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsong/pseuds/Rainsong
Summary: Fjord inhaled, suddenly aware of how magical Caduceus looked in the candlelight, with the haze of incense around him. He forced himself to snap out of it before it got awkward, and stepped out of the home.The cold air outside was sharp. It broke the spell of whatever was going on inside the home, and Fjord felt guilty for finding it a little romantic. A man had just died.In which both Fjord and Caduceus learn things about death and fall in love in the most inappropriate places, and Beau gets to be a sea captain for a moment. We're going fullPirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, gang, not even sorry about it.
Relationships: Caduceus Clay/Fjord
Series: Found Family Part II, or, The Mighty Nein [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863178
Comments: 24
Kudos: 129





	1. Glory Run

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Ella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakukajas) for beta reading and for talking about Critical Role ships for hours with me last night. <3  
> A few lines in chapter 1 are taken directly from the show (thank you to the [Critical Role linked transcript search](https://kryogenix.org/crsearch/)!) and one of the prayers to the Wildmother uses lines from "Oh, Bury Me Not (Introduction: A Cowboy's Prayer)" by Johnny Cash, which I can't believe I had never heard before Taliesin put it on Cad's playlist, because it's so beautiful.
> 
> One element of this fic inspired by some excellent [Clay-Dust-Stone meta](https://joycrispy.tumblr.com/post/625020776636121088/luckypencilmangoesboop-joycrispy-while-im) I read on Tumblr the other day.
> 
> And yeah, the ending is 100% inspired by That Scene from _Pirates of Caribbean: At World's End_.
> 
>  **Trigger warnings:** Explicit language, canon-typical violence, minor character death, mourning of/discussion of canonical major character death, grief.  
> Also, this was written before Taliesin clarified that Caduceus is aro/ace.

Caduceus knew there was a lot he didn’t know about these people. What they hoped to accomplish, why he was meant to travel with them, what Mollymauk really meant to them. But if there was something Caduceus did know, it was grief, and the many ways it could be expressed. Jester’s was common: kneeling, leaving an offering of something meaningful. So was Beauregard’s: more stoic, standing by those who wore their heart on their sleeve. Caleb and Nott, a little fearful of approaching those who had only begun the mourning process. He watched with curiosity as Fjord saluted the grave. It was a rite he hadn’t seen before—and he had seen a lot of different expressions of grief. A sailor’s goodbye. He frowned as Yasha walked away, towards the thunderstorm. Her pain was obvious, and he couldn’t help her. It was her journey. Still, something drew him out of the cart. There was some closure he could offer.

“Stay here, okay? I’ll just be a minute.” he said, to Dancing Queen. The horse blinked at him. She understood. “Good.”

Caduceus’ feet sank gently into the snow as he approached the hill. He cleared his throat.

“May I?” he said. Jester and Beauregard turned, surprised. No one stopped him from approaching. He knelt by the grave, reaching through the snow to touch the dirt, digging his fingers as far as they would go into the cold earth. Somehow, he knew it was enough, though the grave was deep. He knew intuitively that the body was there, though he had never seen it: a tiefling, bold and defiant in life, soaked in his own blood, now at peace. It had already begun to decompose on its own. It didn’t really need his help, but helping it along to grow something new could always bring a little closure. He sat there for a long moment, eyes closed, calling the living things in the earth to the corpse. The Wildmother’s burial prayer tumbled from his lips, barely a whisper:

“ _ Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains, _

_ Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze… _ ”

As he raised his head, the spell complete, he felt the eyes of the Mighty Nein on his back, staring at him with varying levels of wonder and confusion. He turned to Jester and Beauregard, a few feet behind him.

“Something will be here,” he said.

“What did you just do?” asked Beauregard.

“I made the earth remember him. Something will be here.”

His work done, Caduceus walked back to the cart. He caught Caleb’s eye, and Caleb gave him a weak smile, seeming to understand what he had done. He passed by Fjord, who didn’t look directly at him, trying to figure out what he should say to his friends. Caduceus stopped next to the horses, occupying himself with checking their bits and bridles and picking chunks of frost out of their manes.

It only took a few moments for the others to return. Yasha had disappeared over the hill, and Caduceus knew intuitively that they did not need to wait for her. Caleb and Beauregard returned to their place in the carriage, with Jester and Nott in the back of the cart, and Fjord seated beside him. With a “hyah!” from Ophelia’s carriage-driver, the group was off. Nobody in the cart spoke until the grave was out of sight.

“Thank you, Caduceus,” said Fjord.

“You’re welcome. It’s my job.”

“How long have you been doing…”

“Funerals?”

“Yeah.”

“My whole life.”

“Oh.”

Fjord stared blankly at the horizon. Caduceus decided to offer a little more.

“My family has been doing this for generations. I’ve seen grief since I could barely walk. It’s different for everybody, you know.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo,” said Fjord.

“I can tell. It doesn’t get easier though, does it?”

“No.”

“It takes time for something to grow. It takes time for the heart to heal. Be patient with yourself,” said Caduceus. “And with them,” he added, nodding towards Jester and Nott behind them.

Fjord sniffed and wiped his nose with his sleeve. Caduceus was pretty sure he was crying a little and trying to mask it as a reaction to the cold.

“I hate this,” said Fjord after a few moments. “The snow.”

“Really? I think it’s nice.”

“We almost never get snow on the Menagerie Coast. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

“Ah. Well, I’ve never been somewhere where it doesn’t snow.”

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” said Fjord, surprised. “I guess you haven’t, if you’ve never left home.”

“Yeah, no, never.”

“It’s beautiful. Maybe… If you’re planning on sticking with us, maybe we’ll go there. I’d like to go back.”

“I’d like that,” said Caduceus. Fjord met his gaze. His eyes and nose were a little red, but he was smiling. Caduceus grinned back. Making friends was easier than he had thought.


	2. Rosohna

Fjord was startled from his book by the doorbell.

“I’LL GET IT,” yelled Beauregard from down the hall. He returned to his book, but only a moment later—

“CADUCEUS!”

Fjord sighed and put down the book, curious. He glanced at the mirror, fixed his hair, and made his way downstairs. He crossed paths with Caduceus in the stairwell, a flurry of gauzy shirt and pale pink hair. He tossed Fjord a damp dishcloth, which, confused, he placed on the banister.

There was a dwarven woman at the door, grey-skinned, with thin black hair, working-class clothes, and a crooked nose. She looked middle-aged, but maybe that was because of a hard life.

“Beau, what’s going on?” asked Fjord.

“This is Solma. Cad is going to a wake. No. Deathbed. Sorry. He’s not dead yet.”

“Fjord?” said Caduceus, barrelling back down the stairs, satchel over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Come with me. We’re going to do something good.”

Fjord knew better than to ask too many questions of Caduceus. He pulled on his boots and followed Caduceus and Solma outside.

Solma walked quickly through the streets of Rohsona, through alleys and through busy traffic into the Corona District. She didn’t speak, and neither did Caduceus or Fjord. She led them towards a three-storey building. The upper floors seemed to be the homes of goblins, a precarious tower held up by salvaged planks of wood, but Solma led them down a stone staircase to a basement home. Candles flickered in the windows, and the door was slightly ajar.

The main room of the home was quiet, despite the number of people in it. Nearly a dozen individuals, most of them duergar, some deep gnomes and goblins among them, children and adults, sat on the floor and on musty furniture, comforting each other, watching a closed door. The ceiling was barely high enough for the duergar, let alone Caduceus, who nearly had to crouch to make his way through.

“He’s in here,” said Solma, opening the closed door. It was a humble bedroom, nothing more than a straw bed on the floor and a washbasin in the corner. Two more people knelt by the bed, a man and a woman, probably Solma’s siblings. In the bed lay a much older man. He was bald and gaunt, even for a duergar, and though this was the first time he was seeing this man, Fjord knew that he had become quite thin, quite quickly. There was a heaviness in the air, like death herself was taking up half the room. She probably was.

“Pa. I found the priest,” said Solma gently, sitting at the foot of the bed. The others shifted, allowing Caduceus to kneel at the man’s head.

“Hi. I’m Caduceus Clay. I’m from the Blooming Grove. Your daughter told me you’re worried about passing on.”

“The Blooming Grove?” said the man, his voice weak and breathy. “You’re a good lad.”

“What’s your name?” asked Caduceus.

“Thomir—” he paused to wheeze, “—Fardan.”

“How long have you known the Wildmother?”

“All my life… She... don’t know me... no more.” He sighed. “I came here… Thirty years ago. Stopped praying... Don’t know why.”

“I don’t think she’s forgotten you at all. Are you afraid?”

“Not of dying. It won’t hurt no more.”

“But you’re afraid of what’s beyond,” said Caduceus. Thomir moved his head, trying to nod.

“I understand. You don’t have to be afraid, Mr. Fardan. She hasn’t forgotten about you. Do you still stop to look at a tree, or a flower, when you walk by?”

“Always, until he couldn’t walk,” answered the younger man. “Taught us all their names, too.”

“Do you feel the breeze, hear the rain, let it take away your worries?”

Thomir’s lips cracked into an affirmative smile.

“She knows. She cares. She’s waiting for you.”

“Have I lived a good life?” asked Thomir. “Do I deserve it?”

“Yes, Pa, of course,” said Solma. She had tears in her eyes. Fjord instinctively put a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. She reached up to squeeze it.

“You raised three good children,” said the other woman, her voice clear but pained. “You worked hard every day of your life to give us a better one. You deserve to rest.”

“Deep in the earth, yes…” said Thomir.

“Ma is waiting for you, too,” said Thomir’s son.

“Elri…” said Thomir, closing his eyes. “I’m ready to see her.”

“Fjord, could you pass me a candle?” asked Caduceus. Fjord blinked, not expecting to be addressed. Caduceus had placed a cone of incense on the floor, hand outstretched towards Fjord, the other still comforting Thomir.

Fjord looked around for a moment and reached for one of the tall candles burning in the corner of the room, by a small figure of a raven. He had seen this before, by a sailor’s deathbed. It was supposed to let the Raven Queen know that someone was dying, but that she could not take them right away.

He passed the candle to Caduceus, who lit the incense and let it burn for a moment before blowing on it. As he began to pray, the room filled with a comforting, woody haze.

“Wildmother, the man before you has a good life in your service. For every moment that he strayed and doubted, he has never forgotten you, just as you have never forgotten him. For every soul he leaves behind who is gathered here to say goodbye, another waits for him in your realm, arms wide.”

A few names were whispered under the breaths of Thomir’s children, of those they had lost and that they hoped he would meet in the next life. Caduceus didn’t stop in his prayer.

“His body has finished its work on earth, there is no more to be done. Matron of Ravens—” he said, and Fjord was somewhat surprised. He couldn’t recall Caduceus ever calling upon the god of death directly. Caduceus continued:

“—ease this man’s pain. He has toiled and suffered in life and deserves rest. Carry his soul to the Wildmother, so that he may know the endless fields and woodland that wait for him. Do not let his soul wander alone. Bring him to the endless seaside and the deep caverns, to the mountaintops and the riverbeds, to the place where all manner of beasts dwell and where those who have followed in her light can be joyful and at peace.”

“I see her,” said Thomir, his voice nearly faded. Fjord glanced up from the dying man, his eyes drawn to Caduceus. His eyes were closed, too, as he held Thomir’s hand. There were no windows in this room, only a few candles casting long shadows on the walls of packed earth. Outlined behind Caduceus’ shadow was that of a woman, one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching out to Thomir. Fjord couldn’t tell if it was the Wildmother or the Raven Queen. Though it was only a shadow, Fjord felt the gaze turn to him knowingly, and a feeling of peace filled the room.

Solma let out a sob, leaning against Fjord. He realized that Thomir had passed. Caduceus placed Thomir’s hand by his side, and stood up.

“Are you leaving?” asked the younger man.

“We’ll wait outside. Be careful of the incense. Take the time you need,” said Caduceus.

“Thank you.”

Caduceus smiled at him and gestured for Fjord to lead the way out. They stepped out of the bedroom, and immediately some of the assembled people started crying, knowing Thomir had passed. Fjord hesitated. He felt like maybe he should say something to them, try to ease their grief, but he felt Caduceus’ hand on his elbow and glanced back at him. Caduceus gave him a faint smile, gesturing with his head to go outside. Fjord inhaled, suddenly aware of how magical Caduceus looked in the candlelight, with the haze of incense around him. He forced himself to snap out of it before it got awkward, and stepped out of the home.

The cold air outside was sharp. It broke the spell of whatever was going on inside the home, and Fjord felt guilty for finding it a little romantic. A man had just died. He made his way halfway up the steps, then sat down, the cold stone grounding him. Caduceus joined him, leaning against the wall with a content smile on his face.

“That was amazing,” said Fjord, and he meant it.

“Thank you.”

“What now?”

“When they’re ready, we’ll bury him.”

“Do we need anything?” asked Fjord. “A coffin, a shovel…?”

“Just a shroud, but a shovel would help. I bet we can borrow one,” said Caduceus.

“You’re incredible,” said Fjord, half to himself.

“Nah…”

“He was so afraid, and you turned him right around!” insisted Fjord. “I saw her. Standing over you.” He still wasn’t sure which  _ her _ it was, but Caduceus didn’t ask.

“Really?”

“She looked at me.”

“That’s nice. That’s real nice.”

For some reason unknown to him, Fjord was overcome with the urge he had had on more than one occasion to kiss Caduceus. He pushed it away. Now was  _ not _ the time, and he didn’t  _ really _ want to kiss Caduceus. Right? This was just some weird, repressed masculinity thing combined with his admiration for his friend—

“Mr. Clay?” said Thomir’s son, standing outside the door.

“Hey,” said Caduceus.

“What do we do next? Do we bury him today?”

“Are you ready to bury him?” asked Caduceus. “You can do what you need with the body.”

“I— I think we’re ready.”

“Let’s get started, then,” said Fjord. He stood up and offered his hand to Caduceus.


	3. Nicodranas

“Are you still afraid of the sea?” asked Fjord.

Caduceus let that idea roll around for a moment.

“I think so. Only a little.”

“Little enough that you would jump off this cliff with me?” asked Fjord. Caduceus stared at him. There was a glint in Fjord’s eye—mischief, teasing. The suggestion wasn’t serious. Still, Caduceus was momentarily distracted from the question by the way Fjord’s smile curled around his tusk and his damp hair stuck to his forehead.

“Absolutely not,” said Caduceus after a moment, looking away.

“Shame. I’ll get you, someday.”

“I look forward to it.”

Fjord searched around where they were seated for a moment, and found a suitable pebble to drop off the cliff into the rocky water below. It was nearly as dark as the sky above.

“Think she would let us die, if we did?”

“If we were foolish enough to jump off the cliff at her lighthouse? Maybe,” said Caduceus, glancing up at the structure behind him. It winked at him.

He turned back to find Fjord staring at his hands on his knees, suddenly pensive. He inhaled.

“Caduceus, I’ve been meaning to tell you—”

Jester’s voice in Caduceus’ head interrupted whatever Fjord was about to say.

“Oh my gosh, Caduceus! Orly is here and he’s looking for you, there’s this guy who just died and they want to bury him at—”

“I’m on my way,” he replied. “We’re at the lighthouse.”

“What?” said Fjord.

“Jester. Orly is looking for someone, who can bury someone,” said Caduceus, in that matter-of-fact way he wasn’t conscious of doing.

“Oh. Let’s go.”

The hike down the cliff was much quicker than the journey up. About halfway down, Fjord stumbled on a loose stone and caught himself on Caduceus’ shoulder, nearly falling into him. Caduceus froze, needing a second to process the touch.

“Sorry,” mumbled Fjord.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Jester was waiting for them at the bottom of the cliff, and led them excitedly to the docks. There was a small shipping vessel with its flag at half mast. Orly sat on a crate at the bottom of the gangplank, in conversation with an older human woman. As they approached, Orly pointed them out to her, and she rushed to greet them.

“Are you the cleric?” she asked.

“Yes. How can I help?” said Caduceus.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Jester filled them in.

“Her husband died and he wants to be buried at sea. They follow the Wildmother.”

Caduceus panicked. He didn’t mean to. This was supposed to be his _thing_.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never— I don’t know how—”

He froze again as Fjord’s hand came to rest on his arm.

“We’ve got this. What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Meredyth,” she said. “My husband is Hiroya.”

“Was this his ship?” he asked. She nodded. “May we come aboard?”

Caduceus found himself following Fjord, still in shock. He had stepped in so quickly. Before he knew it, the ship was leaving the bay, Jester was helping him wrap the body in a shroud, and Fjord was speaking quietly with the widow on the top deck. Jester seemed to notice his discomfort.

“Fjord is really impressive when he takes charge like that, huh?” she asked. Caduceus hummed vaguely in response.

“What were you two doing up there by the lighthouse? Were you communing with the Wildmother?”

“We were going to,” he said. “We just got caught up talking…”

Jester grinned at him. Caduceus avoided her gaze, tying the last knot in the bedsheet they were using as a shroud.

“We’re done here. I’ll wait with the body, you can go up, if you want,” he said.

“You should go and help Fjord,” insisted Jester. “I’ll stay with the dead guy.” She sounded less confident in the second part of the statement, glancing at the corpse warily.

“No, no…”

“Yes, yes!” said Jester. “Go talk to the Wildmother and stuff!”

“Okay,” said Caduceus, conceding. He made his way above deck. Fjord and Meredyth were speaking to the ship’s first mate— _or captain now? Is that how that works?_ wondered Caduceus—to determine where to drop anchor.

“Fjord?” he asked, finding his voice surprisingly weak. Fjord looked up at him, then back to Meredyth. He gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder and excused himself from the conversation.

“Hey.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” admitted Caduceus, hoping he was out of earshot of anyone but Fjord. He slunk down onto a crate. Fjord sat beside him.

“I know. I know how to do this,” said Fjord. “I’ve watched people be buried at sea before. I’ve watched you bury people in the ground before.”

“It’s funny. I’ve always been told there were only three ways to lay a body to rest. In the earth, in the sky, or in the fire. Everyone always forgot the sea.”

Fjord chuckled.

“Maybe the Wildmother was waiting for the right person to do that one,” continued Caduceus. 

“What do you mean?”

“Stone, Clay, Dust. Air, earth, fire. Something’s missing. She doesn’t make mistakes like that.”

“What about the legend? There was a champion and they, like, broke his body into three pieces. Right?”

“It’s a legend. I’ve never heard it directly from her.”

Fjord let out another nervous laugh.

“This is just like when I remembered, about my last name…”

“Maybe Stone wasn’t meant to fit. Just a placeholder,” suggested Caduceus.

“All depends on how well this goes.”

Caduceus stared out at the dark sea, letting himself calm down a little. The anxiety returned a moment later when someone called for Fjord. Caduceus realized they were dropping anchor. Fjord ran off to the bow of the ship, joining the crew and the widow who were assembling. Caduceus returned below deck, where Jester was sitting as far as she could from the body without leaving the room. She gave him a nervous smile.

They brought the body up and Caduceus got to work, cleansing it with incense, as Fjord gave a eulogy. The motions felt automatic to Caduceus. All of his focus was on Fjord’s voice, speaking beautifully about a man he had not met. He was impressed. He had learned all of this from a few conversations with his widow and crewmates. Each of the people assembled said a few words, but when it came to Caduceus, he faltered, unprepared.

“May… May the Wildmother embrace him, and watch over us all,” he said, the words just as automatic as the motions. He looked at Fjord. Fjord was looking at him, encouraging, and kept looking at him as the sailor next to him began telling a brief story about how the deceased had been a truly loyal friend. For the first time in the past few hours, Caduceus found his cheeks flushing under Fjord’s gaze. He immediately chastised himself.

 _Now is_ not _the time to be thinking those thoughts. A man has died._

Thinking it didn’t help. He found himself focused on Fjord’s lips as he recited a prayer—a variation on one Caduceus had often used. He stumbled a little, changing references to the warm earth and vast plains to imagery of the deep sea and soft sand, off the cuff. Halfway through, he caught Caduceus’ eye again, looking a little panicked. Though he wasn’t too sure of himself either, Caduceus managed to give him an encouraging smile.

After Fjord had finished the prayer, the captain joined him, and they lifted the body onto the side of the deck. Meredyth approached, placing her hand on her husband’s chest one final time, and then the body was gone, tumbling into the sea below. Though the whole time Fjord had been praying to the Wildmother, Caduceus could swear he saw a green-cloaked figure aiding them, granting a final blessing to the body. He looked back at Jester, who was just releasing her holy symbol. Caduceus wanted to slap himself. He had been so worked up, he had forgotten to cast _ceremony_ , but Jester had stepped in.

“Thank you,” he whispered to her. She smiled.

“The Traveler said you guys should totally bone,” she said, under her breath.

“This is a funeral,” said Caduceus.

“Not anymore! You could be like, _oh, Fjord, it’s so amazing how you buried that guy, you’re so pious_ …”

Caduceus frowned, glancing past Jester. Fjord was looking at him again, which made him soften.

“Maybe I could.”


	4. The Lucidian Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it's clear that there's a big time jump between chapters and that they're in an established relationship. This chapter takes place at some unspecified point in the future when they're going to fight Uk'otoa once and for all.

“There’s too many of them!” said Yasha, panting. A bolt of lighting struck the water beside her, an omen to keep going.

“Don’t worry!” shouted Caleb. “Heads up!”

A fireball rocketed from the crow’s nest towards a group of cultists. Those that weren’t burnt to a crisp were pushed into the churning sea below. Fjord heard Veth screaming at the crew to fire the cannons. He turned back to the approaching cultist in front of him, who was suddenly knocked back by a spectral pink lollipop.

“On your right!” said Beau, grazing his elbow as she rushed in to pummel the prone cultist. Somewhere behind them, he heard Orly’s bagpipes bellow as he cast a spell.

“Where’s Caduceus?” Fjord shouted at Beau.

“With Jester!”

Fjord turned around. Jester was kneeling near the wheel of the ship, one hand raised to control her _spiritual weapon_ , the other touching Caduceus’ chest. Fjord raced to them.

“I’ve got him!” he said. Caduceus was conscious but groggy. There was blood at the corner of his mouth. Instinctually, Fjord brought a hand to his cheek to heal him.

“Thank you,” croaked Caduceus.

“Of course. Get up.”

“Fjord!” said Jester, but he was prepared. He whirled around to parry a blow. Next to him, Caduceus raised his shield and sent a blast of necrotic magic towards one of the mages across the deck.

“Caduceus,” said Fjord, in-between strikes, “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” he shouted back.

“We should get married.”

“What?!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Now?” asked Caduceus, incredulous, as he shoved Fjord out of the way of a harpoon. It struck a barrel instead.

“Thanks. Yes, now.”

“We’re a _little busy_ ,” pointed out Caduceus.

“We could die today.”

“You’ve got a point!”

“Will you marry me?” asked Fjord, again.

“I guess, yeah!” said Caduceus, but he was grinning.

Fjord stabbed the Star Razor cleanly through the cultist and kicked the body off of the platform. Above them, Caleb was controlling some sort of elemental, cornering a group by the stern where Yasha and the lollipop were pummeling them. The cannons below continued to fire. Seeing that they had a moment of respite, Fjord looked around for Beau.

“Beau!” he shouted.

“What?” she replied, from a few feet behind him. _When did she get there?_

“Marry us!”

“What?!” she repeated.

“Marry us,” insisted Caduceus.

“You’re the first mate, you can do it,” said Fjord.

“I’m busy!” said Beau, barely turning around to punch a fish person in the face. It crumpled behind her.

“We might die!” said Fjord.

“Fine! Jester!”

“What?” shouted Jester.

“Help me do a wedding!” Beau shouted back.

If Jester asked for clarification, Fjord couldn’t hear it over the boom of thunder—or was it the cannon?—and the clang of steel as Caduceus shielded them both from an attack.

“Um. Dearly beloved!” shouted Beau, loud enough that the entire crew could hear her. Fjord saw Caleb above pause in his spellcasting to watch.

“We are gathered here today to kick Uk’otoa’s fishy ass, and also, to unite our friends Fjord and Caduceus in holy matrimony.”

Somewhere, Veth wolf-whistled.

“Fjord, do you take—” Beau said, interrupted by the need to sucker-punch a cultist. Magic missiles from above took out two that were coming up behind Fjord. He realized that Caduceus was no longer beside him. He rushed to him and helped him knock down a cultist.

“Caduceus Clay, do you take me to be your husband?” he asked, gasping.

“I do!” said Caduceus. He jumped out of the way to avoid a rolling cannonball, which Jester kicked towards another pair of cultists like it was a bowling ball, knocking one of them over.

“Fjord Sand, do you take me to be your husband?” asked Caduceus.

“Who?”

“Me!”

“No, what did you call me?” asked Fjord, parrying a blow.

“Fjord Sand. Like—” said Caduceus, pausing to gasp, “—Clay, Dust, Stone, and Sand.”

Fjord wanted to kiss him right away, but that wasn’t how it was done.

“I do!” he said, laughing. He managed to stop for a moment to breathe, just smiling like an idiot at Caduceus, who was smiling back at him, eyes wide and soft.

“By the power vested in me as first mate of this vessel, I now pronounce you husbands. You may kiss the groom! Or whatever! Gotta go!” said Beau. She barrelled past them to help an increasingly-overwhelmed Yasha.

“I got you, Yasha! Kiss him, Fjord!” said Jester, tapping each of them on the shoulder and then making a motion to heal Yasha from a distance. Fjord and Caduceus were suddenly wreathed in faint green light, protective and reassuring. Caduceus barely had to raise his shield to deflect a stray crossbow bolt. Fjord wasn’t sure if the light around them was initially from the Traveler or the Wildmother, but he felt her watching them, approving.

He dropped his sword and clung to Caduceus, meeting his lips without any hesitation. Somehow, maybe from the divine magic around them, the sounds of the battle and the storm faded. The rain was there, even stronger, but it was warm, comforting, just like Caduceus. He knew the kiss couldn’t be too long—it sounded distant, but he knew Beau had just cracked a cultist over the head near them—but he didn’t want to let go. He pulled away from the kiss, unable to stop smiling.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” said Caduceus. “Heads up,” he added, as a swarm of beetles erupted from his staff. 

“MARIUS! Where’s the fucking champagne?!” yelled Veth, and Fjord saw Marius jump and run below deck to look for some.

Around them, the battle seemed to still be raging. Somehow, their numbers had barely dwindled. Fjord readied himself to fight again, but as he gave one last look to Caduceus, there was another crack of thunder, and lightning hit the ship next to theirs, setting it ablaze. Yasha roared with confidence. Orly began playing a jaunty tune on his pipes, somehow both celebratory and warlike. Then, a dark shadow was over them: the largest wave Fjord had ever seen, looming over the ship.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” he said, clinging to Caduceus, trying to shield him, but Caduceus was doing the same. Suddenly, he thought he saw a face in the wave. A familiar one. Rather than crashing on the deck, the wave broke into smaller tendrils of water, whipping around the cultists of Uk’otoa and dragging them off into the water. Playfully, the Wildmother dropped a column of water on top them. Her blessing.

After a moment, Caduceus broke into laughter, and Fjord realized that they had won, at least for now.

“Did you kiss him?” shouted Beau from across the deck, leaning on Yasha. “I didn’t see!”

“Yes!” said Fjord, but he kissed his husband again anyway.


End file.
